Titus: Book Two of the Cantrell Brothers Series

Chapter Four

The warm, heavenly scent of red velvet cupcake batter baking in his ancient oven had Titus's stomach grumbling. He hadn't eaten since lunch – around five and a half hours ago, he realized as he checked the clock on the microwave. Today would be the most confusing day of this month; and, much like the other special days of the months before, it would be another one of his and Anna's bonding days that would further increase the strength of their friendship.

The timer beeped its resounding ring, alerting Titus that the cupcakes had to be taken out. Donning a pair of old oven mitts, he very carefully took out the pan of seven cupcakes, their red and fluffy texture making him wish that he had made more than just the measly amount of seven. Each cupcake was specially made for every day of Anna's worst week of the month.

Stricter and more reliable than clockwork, Anna's period came on the twenty-first of every month. Without fail, the date was always the same, the timing even having been nailed down to the tee. In about thirty minutes, she would be on her couch, wearing lazy clothes and trying to make the side effects of menstruation go away. It was a common routine and event that he always made sure to be there for.

After spreading out his formidable variety of baking utensils, Titus got out the white colored frosting, separating the sweet paste into seven different partitions. Each partition would be died a different color of the rainbow, all different hues used to decorate a separate cupcake. As he embellished the first cupcake that would eventually look like Anna's favorite animal that was a horse, he fondly remembered the very first time he had ever seen her during one of her weeks.

“God damn!” a feminine voice cursed, the sound of the ranch house's front door being slammed shut commencing shortly after.

Groggily, Titus got out of bed, putting on a pair of mesh shorts before walking downstairs to see who the hell had woken him up. Eyes still bleary from his short nap that would have lasted about another five minutes, he made his way down the stairs, back aching from the chores he had taken care of earlier. There was still a lot more left to do, and his father was outside, working diligently as ever.

He cringed at the thought of fully owning the ranch by himself in just a few month's time. The plan was to have the Circle T absolutely under his control as soon as Tobias graduated from high school; and so far it was working out perfectly, his body almost ready to accept all of the long hours of hard, physical labor.

Another curse muffled through the house, reminding him of why he was downstairs in the first place. Besides himself, the house was empty, his mother having gone to work after dropping Tawson off at the adult day center in the city.

“'Lo?” he called out sleepily, his voice sounding craggy from sleep.

“What the hell is this crap!” that same, familiar voice cried, sounding extremely frustrated and pissed beyond all belief.

Smoothing his hands down the hard planes of his stomach – a gesture he subconsciously did whenever he was feeling a bit apprehensive – Titus walked into the kitchen, sore, bare feet slapping against the wooden floorboards. As he rounded the corner, he saw the tall and lanky frame of a girl as she rummaged through the refrigerator.

Long, red curls reached down the small black that was barely covered in the harsh heat of Texas, and Titus immediately knew who it was – Anna Simmons, the feisty seventeen-year-old neighbor girl who lived a few miles away. She and her siblings almost always stopped by after school to help with their milking cows, but it was one o'clock in the afternoon; and he was too tired to think straight.

“Anna?”

She screamed, turning around too fast as her feet fell out from under her. Titus immediately helped her up, still trying to figure out why she was here. Looking closely at her pale face, he noticed a trail of tears running down her cheeks and past her red lips. Something pulled in his stomach then, causing him to immediately let go, her touch feeling hotter than a cattle prod.